


If It's February, It's Johnlock!

by RosieFreebatch



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Challenge Response, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Angst, Humor, John is a Saint, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Omega Verse, Parenthood, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is a Brat, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 20,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29044149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieFreebatch/pseuds/RosieFreebatch
Summary: Daily stories featuring Sherlock, John, and sometimes their friends and family revolved around the prompt of the day.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 84
Kudos: 57
Collections: February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee





	1. Chapter One - Secret

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I did a daily challenge, hopefully I can keep up! Here are the prompts:
> 
> 1\. Secret  
> 2\. Allergies  
> 3\. Storm  
> 4\. Dance  
> 5\. Choose  
> 6\. Power outage  
> 7\. Cereal  
> 8\. Skeptical  
> 9\. Velvet  
> 10\. Handle  
> 11\. Swimming  
> 12\. Salt  
> 13\. Boss  
> 14\. Ugly  
> 15\. Argument  
> 16\. Trinket  
> 17\. Delusion  
> 18\. Property  
> 19\. Greece  
> 20\. Heels  
> 21\. Sigh  
> 22\. Texture  
> 23\. Verbal  
> 24\. Forget  
> 25\. Mystic  
> 26\. Ears  
> 27\. Fashion  
> 28\. List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is hiding something important from Sherlock.  
> Omega John and Alpha Sherlock.

John looked at himself in the full length mirror in he and Sherlock's bedroom and sighed. He had learned he was four weeks pregnant after feeling nauseous and a little woozy. He thought it was the beginning of a gastrointestinal virus, but then he developed a sudden craving for rocky road ice cream, and John was not one who regularly ate the dessert. He snuck out to Tesco's to buy a pregnancy test and took it while Sherlock was out of town for a case. The result was positive, but he wanted a second opinion so he had Sarah from the clinic do one and it also came back positive.

John was actually thrilled to be carrying Sherlock's child. He wanted to bring an Holmes heir into the world that would be a perfect mix of he and Sherlock. But he feared how his alpha would react. Sherlock was still wanting to go out on cases and John wasn't sure his mate was ready now to be a father. John was afraid the detective would be angry, but he knew he couldn't keep the baby a secret any longer. Sherlock would instantly deduce it.

John heard the front door slam and heard Sherlock call for him. He looked down at his stomach. "Into battle little one," he said hesitantly.

******

"How was the case then?" John asked as he stood in front of the stove making tea for he and Sherlock. 

"Dull. I don't even know why Lestrade even called me on it," Sherlock retorted, and proceeded to go into a lengthy rant about boring jewel store robbers. 

John couldn't help but laugh. "Not all cases are going to be triple murders in locked rooms love."

Sherlock huffed, but it was all in jest. "No, and you're right." He flopped down in his chair, removing his expensive Italian loafers, gazing at his partner. There was something different about John. He'd noticed it after John got ill four weeks ago. The doctor said it was a virus, and had gone to the clinic where he used to work to get checked out to be on the safe side. Sherlock had eventually dismissed it, and John had gotten better.

John brought Sherlock his mug, and sat down in his chair. He took a sip, enjoying the warm brew slide down his throat. Sherlock was drinking his tea as well, comfortable silence filling the flat except for the patter of rain hitting the windows.

John reached down on the floor to pick up the novel he'd been reading earlier, when all of a sudden his stomach lurched. He automatically put his hand on his stomach. Sherlock immediately noticed it. "John, what's wrong?" He got up and knelt down in front of his blogger.

"I'm fine. I think I bent down too quickly and a muscle cramped," he replied, wincing at how unconvincing he sounded.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. "I don't believe you."

John sighed. He had to stop being a coward and tell Sherlock. He braced himself and took Sherlock's hands in his. "No, it's not a cramp. Now just listen."

Sherlock softened his face and kept silent.

John squeezed Sherlock's hands. "I don't know any other way to tell you, so I'm going to be frank. "I'm four weeks pregnant. I really did think it was a virus at first but two pregnancy tests---one storebought, and one at the clinic confirmed it." He looked at Sherlock intently, studying his face, waiting for a reaction.

A look of sadness crossed Sherlock's face. "Why didn't you tell me? You're not ashamed to be carrying my child are you? I know I sometimes I'm not the most attentive alpha---"

"No, that's not it. Not at all," John quickly interrupted, gently caressing Sherlock's cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm thrilled to be having your baby. I can't wait to bring it into this world. I was afraid you'd be upset because a baby would interfere with the Work, and it won't be long before I can't assist you..."

Sherlock cupped John's face and kissed him sweetly. He pulled away and grinned at John. "I am over the moon that you're pregnant. I never thought I'd be at this stage of my life, with a perfect omega that wanted to bond with me, much less want to have children with me. Once he or she is born, I'll scale back on cases and take more private work. And we can finally take Hudders up on her offer to rent 221C and turn it into a lab, so my experiments will be kept safely away from the little one. Your old room will become the nursery. We can do this John."

A tear of happiness ran down John's cheek. Sherlock wanted their baby and wanted to be a father. It was going to be okay. He heaved a huge sigh of relief. "You don't know how relieved I am. And I'm sorry I doubted you. You are going to be an amazing father. I love you so much."

He took Sherlock's hand and placed it on his stomach, and the detective laid his head on John's shoulder. John silently promised never to keep any more secrets from his mate, and now he could relax and focus on he and Sherlock becoming parents.


	2. Chapter Two - Allergies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is working a case and needs pharmaceutical advice. An alternate first meeting story.

Sherlock walked into the downtown London pharmacy on a mission. He was working a case where a perfectly healthy middle aged man had suddenly died from what appeared to be natural causes, and his teenage daughter had been admitted to hospital with a number of severe symptoms. Sherlock immediately suspected poisoning, as the daughter said during an interview shortly after the medical team had stabilized her that she and her dad had each drank a glass of strawberry milk that tasted funny, and there was pink residue at the bottom of the glass. Anderson, the idiot forensics examiner, had loudly declared it was gritty texture leftover from the milk, but Sherlock had shot that theory down, quite harshly. So he decided to do his own research, and had taken the glass with him to see if a pharmacist could determine what the pink stuff was.

A short, blond, man wearing a white lab coat with a nametag that read John Watson, PharmD, was behind the counter, holding a pill bottle and speaking to a customer. If anyone could help him, it would be this gentleman, who Sherlock silently thought was quite handsome. His hair was cut military style, and his stance screamed military too. He couldn't help but listen to him talk to the customer, and the pharmacist's friendly but firm tone all but solidified that he was former military, perhaps an Army Captain.

The customer walked away a couple of minutes later, and Sherlock quickly walked to the counter. "Hello, how can I help you?" the blond man asked politely. Sherlock mentally noted the other man's deep blue eyes had dilated slightly, a sign of attraction. He could use that to his advantage. 

Sherlock held up the glass. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm assisting on a case at Scotland Yard, a suspected poisoning. This glass was found at the victims' home. It has pink residue on the bottom and the moron of a forensic examiner they have working for them insists it's leftover grit from the strawberry milk that was inside it. I figured a pharmacist could easily explain what this residue actually is, and since you are a doctorate of pharmacy and a former Army Captain, you aren't as stupid as most people."

The other man raised his eyebrows in both surprise and disbelief. "How did you know I was a former Army Captain?"

Sherlock smiled like a Cheshire cat. Your haircut, your stance, and the way you spoke to that man about his prescription. I couldn't help overhear your tone."

John smiled back. "You're extremely observant Mr. Holmes, but then again, you have to be if you're a detective assisting Scotland Yard. Let me examine this glass more closely. I'll need to get some gloves so I won't mess up any fingerprints."

"The glass was wiped clean of prints, and please call me Sherlock. Mr. Holmes is for my much older, irritating brother."

John laughed. "Okay Sherlock, but I still think I should wear gloves so I'm not considered a suspect. Be right back."

John returned, putting on a pair of blue latex gloves. Sherlock handed him the glass. John looked inside the bottom of it. After only twenty seconds of examining it, he gave it back to Sherlock. "It's definitely Benadryl allergy tablets, crushed into a fine powder. Since they're pink, it would be very easy to mix them into strawberry milk. Too many of them can cause diphenhydramine poisoning."

"What are the symptoms of diphenhydramine poisoning?" Sherlock asked. He already knew what John was about to tell him, but he wanted it confirmed from an expert so he could throw it in Anderson's face later.

"Nausea, vomiting, blurred vision, agitation, confusion, dry red skin, dry mouth, a ringing in the ears. More severe symptoms can be seizures, hallucinations, and kidney dysfunction. The person may not be able to urinate. Did your victim experience any of these?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded. "It was a man, forty years of age, and his sixteen year-old daughter. The man died, and his daughter is in the hospital, having experienced nausea, vomiting, blurred vision, dry mouth, and tinnitus."

John paused for a moment. "Did she complain of having these symptoms over time or was this the first time before she went to the hospital?"

"She had them before, but not as severe as this morning," Sherlock answered. Then his eyes went wide. "Dr. Watson, are you suggesting that---"

"It could be a prolonged poisoning over a period of time. Was she and her dad a frequent drinker of strawberry milk?"

"Yes. Her father couldn't drink regular white milk so her mother bought strawberry."

"And was it the mother that served them the milk?" John asked, a knowing look on his face.

A lightbulb went off in Sherlock's head. "Of course! How could I be so stupid! He grabbed the glass from John. "Dr. Watson, you're a genius! I'll be back. What time do you get off?I'd like to take you to dinner." He started racing out of the pharmacy.

"Sherlock wait!" John called out.

Sherlock whirled around. "Yes?" he said a bit impatiently.

"I get off at four-thirty. And yes to dinner. Just give me an hour to get home and freshen up." John sweetly smiled at him.

Sherlock grinned back and quickly came back to John. "What's your phone number? I'll text you."

John hastily found a notepad and wrote it down, tearing off the paper and giving it to Sherlock. "Looking forward to it."

"We'll be going to Angelo's. The owner is a friend of mine and gives me my meals on the house."

John chuckled. "You have quite the reputation it seems."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and leaned in. "You don't know the half of it." He winked at John before dashing away, leaving John to shake his head, wondering what he was getting into, but he knew whatever it was, it wasn't going to be boring. 


	3. Chapter Three - Storm

The once hot June afternoon had considerably cooled off as thick gray clouds could be seen rolling in from the distance. A breeze had picked up, and the apple trees in the orchard were gently swaying from side to side. 

John and Sherlock were lying side by side on their blanket, relaxing and digesting their picnic lunch of fried chicken, apple pie, and iced tea. Life had become quiet and idyllic after the two married and decided to give up the fast-paced and sometimes dangerous life catching criminals in London for early retirement on a farm in Exeter. John had spotted the property while the two were there for a case and fell in love with it. They had toured the farm, which sat on 58 acres. Along with the apple orchard, there was also a place for horses, and there were some buildings behind the main farmhouse that could be used for a variety of purposes. 

They had discussed buying it for about two months, until they finally decided to bite the bullet and purchase it, first just as a country getaway when London became too hectic and stressful, but the getaway became permanent after a case involving the abduction and murder of seven children taxed them emotionally, physically, and mentally. Though the murderer was caught and an eighth child saved, the two had enough and announced they would be leaving London for good.

Sherlock turned the empty buildings into an apiary to keep bees, a lifelong dream of his. John tended to the apples and created a blog about he and Sherlock's life on the farm. They had befriended a couple who gave riding lessons, and they allowed them to use the stable for their business. Every Saturday and Sunday, families, children, and couples would come to learn to ride horses. Things were about as perfect as they could be.

Sherlock and John also loved how different the weather was in the country. A rare snow would look pure, serene, and peaceful, autumns were crisp with bright colors of orange, green, and red, and the rain didn't make things gray and dreary like it did in the city.

On this day, a thunderstorm had been forecasted to begin in the afternoon. The former detective and former doctor decided to have a picnic before it came. John had cooked the chicken and baked the pie the day before and made a batch of fresh iced tea that chilled all morning. They sat under an apple tree, enjoying their meal, making small talk, and sharing sweet kisses.

The sky was darkening to a grayish-purple, so the two packed up the blanket and remnants of their lunch and headed back to their home. Thunder rumbled in the threatening skies, and they had just made it in the door when the rain began to fall down in a torrent. The two smiled at each other and laughed, relieved they had missed the downpour.

After the blanket was put away and the trash thrown into the kitchen garbage can, Sherlock and John decided it was time to relax and get a nap in before dinner. First though, a hot shower together with each lovingly washing the other, then into their bed, sighing with pleasure as freshly dried skin hit soft, high count Egyptian cotton sheets, thanks to Sherlock's love of luxurious fabric.

John leaned in and kissed Sherlock soundly. Sherlock hummed with much approval and wrapped his arms and legs around his husband. It wasn't long before the summer storm outside lulled them into a tranquil sleep filled with nothing but sweet dreams.


	4. Chapter Four - Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Rosie's wedding day, and that means dancing.

It had been a beautiful wedding ceremony. Rosie and her new wife Lacy were visions of loveliness in their bridal attire. Lacy, an attractive brown-skinned woman with short burgundy dyed hair, bangs curled into finger waves, wore a sleeveless ivory dress with matching fringe at the bottom, paired with a pearl choker. She wore a white gardenia clipped to the side of her head. Rosie wore an ivory silk dress that went down to her ankles, with cap sleeves. Her blonde curly hair was done up in a bob, and she wore a sparkling headband that circled her forehead.

The two women chose a 20's art deco theme for their celebration and decided to dress as flappers. Both were art students and had fallen in love with the style while studying at uni. Mycroft had offered to host their wedding and reception at the Diogenes Club. No expense was spared to turn one of the ballrooms into a 1920's dance hall, complete with a band that played both classic and modern music. Wedding guests were encouraged to dress as if they were at a fancy party in the 20's.

Sherlock and John, Rosie's proud dads, were in their Roaring Twenties finest, complete with pinstripe suits (white with black stripes for John and black with white stripes for Sherlock), and matching fedoras. Lacy's dad wore a traditional tuxedo and her mom wore a satin gown and faux diamond necklace, a near double for Josephine Baker. 

Everyone was having a grand time, enjoying a wide variety of cocktails and hors d'oeurves. Rosie and Lacy decided not to have a full sit-down dinner, because they didn't want to prolong the reception, and that Sherlock, even at sixty-three, still had the patience of a 2 year-old toddler. A bored and restless senior citizen Sherlock was just as bad as Sherlock stropping in his younger days. Allowing people to sit and stand where they wanted to snack was the better option.

*****

The bandleader announced it was time for the father-daughter dance, starting with Rosie. She beckoned for John and Sherlock to join her. The boys knew that they would all be dancing together to the song Rosie picked out, Stardust. The three were on the dance floor, all eyes on them.

The lights dimmed, casting a golden glow in the room. The music started up, and Rosie placed an arm around each of her fathers, and three began slowly swaying in time to the song. Some of the ladies, including Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Turner, and Sherlock's mum, teared up at the sweet scene. Lacy was beaming at her new wife, as she would be doing the same thing with her parents to her chosen song, Someone to Watch Over Me, as soon as Rosie, Sherlock, and John were done.

*****

"Everything turned out to be perfect bumblebee," Sherlock whispered to Rosie as they gracefully moved around. 

"I know, and it was mostly because of your meticulous planning. I can't thank you enough," Rosie replied, pressing a kiss to her papa's cheek. She turned to John and gave him a kiss. "And you Dad, you look so dapper in your suit. I think you were made to wear pinstripes and a fedora."

"I do cut a pretty good figure for pushing almost 70," John said proudly.

"John you're beautiful. A silver fox if there ever was one," Sherlock told him lovingly, still amazed that after all these years, they were together and more in love than ever. 

John blushed slightly and cuddled closer to his husband, closing his eyes, letting the melody of the song wash over him like a warm sea wave. He remembered his wedding dance with Sherlock. It didn't take place in a reception hall, but at their flat on 221B Baker Street. They had a simple ceremony at the registrar's office, followed by a celebration lunch at Angelo's, then returned to their flat to celebrate privately. They danced in their living room, to Just the Two of Us by Bill Withers and Grover Washington Jr. John had picked out the song and surprised Sherlock.

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock asked John.

"Our wedding day, and our first dance as a married couple in the flat."

Sherlock hummed and smiled. "Just the two of us, literally. How we wanted it."

"But I'm glad we saved the big, fancy 'do for our Rosie. If anyone deserved it, it was our girl."

All Rosie could do was grin from ear to ear as the music finally ended, the audience clapped wildly, and three very happy people went back to their seats, glad their dance made everyone happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock's mom would probably be in their late 80s or 90s here and I sure wasn't going to have them miss Rosie's wedding.


	5. Chapter 5 - Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very short and slightly smutty chapter. 😉

John lay on the bed, naked, staring at Sherlock, who was also naked, and standing above him with a lustful, predatory look on his face. John couldn't help but notice the detective was very hard, which made him hard too. He also couldn't help but notice what Sherlock was holding in each hand, and gulped.

Sherlock saw John's reaction and grinned deviously. "So John, I made a special trip today and the results of that trip I'm holding in each hand. Now all you have to do is choose one of these results," Sherlock said huskily.

John licked his lips and stared at what his husband held. They were both enticing. One was silver with a jeweled red heart at the top, the other clear with thin dark blue lines circling around the top.

Sherlock was growing a bit impatient...and was growing down below too. He was so ready, and John was taking his sweet old time like always.

John sensed his spouse's impatience and it was his turn to smile deviously. He loved teasing Sherlock so, but decided to have pity on him. He pointed to the red heart. "I choose that one."

Sherlock beamed at his blogger. "Excellent choice my dear John. The red heart matches those red pants that always drive me wild. Now, turn over. I can't wait to use what you picked."

John obeyed, and shivers began to ripple through his body. As for Sherlock, he couldn't wait to use the new anal plug John chose. They would definitely still make use of the other one, but for tonight, Sherlock would be putting a heart inside his heart, his one and only John Watson-Holmes.


	6. Chapter 6 - Power Outage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serial killer has been creating nighttime power outages in order to cover up their crimes. When a power outage happens in the middle of the day, it's a whole different story.

John was nodding off as he entered the notes from his last patient visit into his computer. The past few days, he had been up almost all day and night helping Sherlock on a serial killer case. The murderer had somehow been able to cause short-lived power outages while most of London was getting ready for bed, and under the cover of darkness, he or she would strike, picking one unfortunate random victim to stab to death. 

John was also still working at the surgery. He'd put in his two weeks notice, deciding to leave and devote his time to assisting his husband with cases, but Sarah had asked him to stay on for the rest of the month. She'd found his replacement, but she wasn't able to start until the beginning of May. He agreed to stay, but putting in hours he didn't think he would be, combined with this tough and troubling serial killer case, he'd become extremely exhausted and he found himself taking short naps where he could. He was spending his lunch hours sleeping on the cot in his office. 

John finally finished his notes, sipping a hot cup of caffeinated tea, hoping the drink would keep him awake. He had two hours to go until his shift ended, and he was grateful that he had off tomorrow. 

He leaned back in his chair and stretched, a big yawn escaping from his mouth. And then the lights went out.

John jumped out of his chair, startled, but he did manage to grab his phone that was in his drawer, turning on the flashlight app. He was about to send a text to Sherlock, but then he realized that it was only one-thirty in the afternoon, and a Wednesday. The power outages were only occurring on Thursday and Sunday evenings, typically between ten and one in the morning. A cold shiver crept up John's spine. Was the killer changing their pattern? 

For some reason he went to look out his window. He saw people walking down the street, and he saw lights on in the coffee shop across the street. It seemed to be business as usual, except for the clinic. So maybe this outage was only happening here. John relaxed a little, letting out a deep breath.

There was a knock at the door. "John, it's Sarah."

John let out another deep breath. "Come on in." 

Sarah entered, carrying a large torch. "Apparently we're the only ones whose lights and electricity has gone out. Valerie is calling the power company to see if they have any information."

John nodded. "For a second I thought it was that maniac."

"Me too. But then I saw lights on across the street and I wasn't worried anymore." Sarah motioned for John to leave his room. "Come on out to the lobby, there's more light out there. I definitely need to get a generator for this place."

John followed her, and was instantly hit with sunlight streaming from the lobby windows. The rest of his co-workers were either seated or standing. He sat down in one of the empty reception chairs, and sent a text to Sherlock letting him know what happened, and not to worry.

A few minutes later, Valerie, the receptionist, stood up. "I just got off the phone with the power company. Thank god for mobiles. You're not going to believe this. Someone deliberately shut off the power to the grid to our office. They said the power should come back on in the next two hours or so."

John heard some groans. "Great, I've got three more patients scheduled," one GP said.

Sarah sighed. "It looks like we're going to have to close early. We can't operate with no power and no landline phone. Anyone who had patients, use your mobile to call them and reschedule. Then we'll do a quick sanitary cleaning and lock up and leave. I'll come back later to check if we have power, and if so, I'll get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good day everyone."

John went back to his office to call his one patient he had that was supposed to come in at two-thirty to let him know what happened, and to reschedule his appointment for Friday morning. He saw that Sherlock had not texted him back like he usually does. John paid it no mind, thinking Sherlock was deep in some experiment either at home or at St. Bart's and was too engrossed to check his phone.

*****

John arrived home an hour later, completely knackered. Sherlock was not in, so John sent another text saying he was home now, and he would order takeaway later for dinner. He went straight to his bedroom, removed his shoes and socks, and collapsed onto the bed, asleep in a matter of minutes, so he didn't hear his phone blowing up with texts.

*****

John woke up to the sound of a door being slammed. He startled slightly, trying to get his bearings, before he heard a familiar baritone. "JOHN!" He rubbed his eyes, stretched, and went to greet his husband. 

Sherlock instantly wrapped his long arms around his doctor. "John, we did it!"

"We did?" John asked, still getting his bearings, his brain a little foggy. He looked up at Sherlock and saw the excitement plastered all over his face. "Sorry, I'm still in sleep mode."

"The serial killers, they're in custody!"

That announcement woke John up. "Thank God! Wait---serial _killers_? There were two?"

Sherlock nodded rapidly. "It was a husband and wife. The husband used to work for the power plant before he was fired for habitual tardiness. He was able to get into the plant, disguising himself as a janitor they rented for cleaning, and shut down all the grids for the city. While he did that, his wife was the one stabbing people to death."

"Holy shit," John cursed. "I'd never suspect it was two, much less a married couple. Wonder if they did it as revenge for him being fired."

"Correct," Sherlock answered, proud of John. "He wanted to get back at the power plant and make them look incompetent. Sadly, the victims were just collateral damage, part of their psychotic scheme."

John shook his head. "Awful. But at least they're caught and now people can breathe easy again. Speaking of breathing easy, did you get my text about the clinic losing power? At first I thought the killer had changed their pattern, but someone deliberately cut off our power, so we were sent home."

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Oh that? I had one of my homeless contacts cut the power off."

John was floored, letting his jaw drop open. "What?"

"I was already at the power plant today investigating, and one of the employees was showing me the grid again. I discovered where the one for the surgery was, and I paid one of my men to sneak in and shut it down."

"Why in the name of all that is holy would you do that?" John shouted. "Because of your stunt, we had to reschedule patients---AND I was almost scared shitless thinking another murder was going to happen!"

Sherlock was unmoved by John's outburst. "Because you've been so exhausted lately. I felt guilty for keeping you up with this case, and I felt bad that you couldn't leave your job for good until your replacement came. I just wanted you to have a day to get out early and get the sleep you so desperately needed. I'm sorry if I scared you, but I was only thinking of you." He gazed down at John, face so full of love, that John could no longer be angry.

"You absolute nutter. You went to such lengths simply so I could catch up on my sleep?"

Sherlock blushed and looked away, nodding. "You are essential to me John, both in work and in our married life. It pained me to see you like that."

John had to laugh at Sherlock's over-the-top display of affection. "You're ridiculous, you know that? But I love so you much and I never want you to change. Come here." John opened his arms, and Sherlock immediately flew into them. "You've had a long day yourself. How about you come to bed and nap with me before I order dinner?"

"I'd like that very much John. And I promise, no more power outages."

"Oh I don't know. Maybe you could work your magic and shut power off to the clinic on my very last day so I'll get to go home early again." John winked at his husband with a mischievous smile.

Sherlock returned the smile. "I think that can be arranged."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not endorse Sherlock's actions, LMAO.


	7. Chapter 7 - Cereal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are college students for this story.

A still groggy John stood at the small kitchen countertop, pouring corn flakes into two bowls before adding milk. Normally John would cook heartier breakfasts for he and Sherlock, especially since his stubborn git of a boyfriend sometimes refused to eat anything more than half a sandwich, or some fruit, or takeaway, and the latter was cutting too much into their food budget. Despite Sherlock coming from a well-off family, John did not want to use the majority of his money for frivolous things. And he was going to Tesco anyway to replenish some of their stock, as he had no classes today, only a late morning required lab session.

John opened up the fridge and retrieved some strawberries to sprinkle on top of the cereal. Sherlock had a big sweet tooth, and was inclined to eat most of his breakfast if it included some type of sweets. 

A few moments later, Sherlock appeared, wrapped in nothing but a sheet, his dark curls in disarray from last night's sleep. He yawned and stretched and padded over to John, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. "Good morning," he murmured.

"Hey," John said, tipping up his face to meet Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock chuckled and leaned down for another kiss. "Breakfast is ready and I want you to eat it," John gently chided.

Sherlock saw the bowl of corn flakes topped with strawberries. He could definitely have several bites of that, he thought to himself. "Looks good, thank you John."

John smiled and took the bowls of cereal to the table. "Can you get the orange juice out of the fridge?" he asked Sherlock, who nodded.

The two sat down and began to eat. "I'm going to Tesco after my lab this afternoon. Want anything special?" John asked his mate.

Sherlock thought for a moment, then blushed. "Uh, can you get some pancake mix and chocolate chips?" he sheepishly asked. "And some more of this cereal and strawberries." Sherlock had eaten nearly half of his cereal.

John couldn't help but grin. The same young man that could reduce others to tears or anger with his brusqueness and deductions on campus was also a gentle sweetheart shy about asking for chocolate chips for his pancakes. "You got it love. I'll add it to my list."

"Thank you." Then Sherlock was right back to being Mister Business, talking about his boring and useless physics professor, and why did he have to show up for class anyway. John laughed while finishing his cereal, then stood up and kissed Sherlock's curls. "I have to get ready for my lab. You behave yourself today and go to class even though you don't want to. I'll see you later, and I'll make that curry and pea dish you love so much for dinner tonight."

Sherlock gently grabbed John's arm, placing a kiss to his tanned skin. "I love you John. I don't know where'd I be without you. You always take good care of me."

John giggled. "I have to take good care of you. It's great practice if I ever want to be a doctor someday."

Sherlock pouted, and John giggled again. "I'm just joking. I love taking care of you because I love you too." He kissed Sherlock's curls again, and the taller boy was instantly placated. "I should show up to class just in this sheet," Sherlock joked with a sly grin.

John snorted. "I wouldn't put it past you, with you barely wearing clothes most of the time while we're in our flat. Not that I don't mind." He reached out to caress Sherlock's bare shoulder.

Sherlock responded by pulling John into his lap, which earned him a squeal from John. "Hey!" he shouted, but started laughing as long, lean arms wrapped tightly around his body. The two snuggled together, John resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. And that's how they stayed until they absolutely had to get ready to go to St. Bart's. John decided that he would serve cereal more often if it led to mornings like these.


	8. Chapter Eight - Skeptical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a fun project for Rosie. Sherlock at first isn't so sure, but his skepticism is soon proven wrong.
> 
> This little story is inspired by a chapter in WritingOutLoud's heartwarming fic, Two Turtle Doves. Go read it if you haven't!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27746104/chapters/67914067

As Sherlock watched John place two cans of shaving cream, a bottle of peppermint oil, and a box of baking soda on the kitchen table, he narrowed his eyes. When John told him he was going to make fake snow for Rosie, in anticipation of the winter storm that was supposed to start this evening, he was pretty skeptical that realistic snow could only be made with three ingredients. He also knew real snow didn't smell like peppermint. But John had told him to have an open mind, and handed him an apron and safety goggles and told him to be available at three o'clock that afternoon. He did as he was told. He wanted to see this spectacular failure for himself.

Little Rosie sat at the table, already dressed in her safety gear, her blue eyes wide with curiosity and excitement, as John poured the baking soda into a large plastic tub, followed by the shaving cream and oil. "Okay Ro, put your hands in there and start mixing it up. Daddy will help too, and so will Papa. Isn't that right?" he said, looking straight at Sherlock.

The detective said nothing, as he came closer and watched Rosie happily knead the mixture. He could smell the fresh crispness of the peppermint, and he took a deep breath, enjoying the sharp scent.

After a few minutes, Rosie took her hands out. "Hands tired Daddy." John chuckled and he took over. Sherlock stood beside him, and John took one of Sherlock's hands, and together they finished kneading the ingredients, the texture looking more and more like snow. Sherlock grinned and looked at John, who grinned back. "Told you it would work," the doctor silently mouthed.

"Sorry I doubted you," Sherlock mouthed back, giving his husband a kiss on the cheek.

"All right you two, ready to test our snow out? Let's get bundled up and go on the roof!" John told his family.

As the three had a grand time throwing their homemade snowballs around, and then they used the rest of the mixture to make a snowman, actual snowflakes started to fall. Rosie stopped her play and stuck her tongue out, letting the wet flakes fall onto her tongue. "Mmm, cold!" she exclaimed. "Like the ones we made better."

"You know what honeybee? I like the ones we made better too. Daddy sure is smart, isn't he?" Sherlock replied, with an affectionate gaze at John. "This was a lot of fun. I'll never be skeptical about any of your plans again."

John wrapped his arms around his husband. "It's okay. When I first saw the recipe online, I wasn't sure it was going to work at first, but trying and failing is all a part of life and it's a good lesson for Rosie to learn. How about we go back in and I'll make some hot cocoa?"

"Yay, cocoa!" Rosie cried, clapping her hands.

"And I'll get the fire going," Sherlock added.

The three began to head back into their flat, just as the snow begun falling even heavier.


	9. Chapter Nine - Velvet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a sweet surprise for Sherlock.

John watched Sherlock finally succumb to sleep and silently heaved a sigh of relief. He'd spent four weeks trying to solve a difficult arson/murder case and last night, hours of staking out the potential suspect came to a close as the killer was caught before they could torch another building. With the case wrapped up, he and John could now relax.

John left their bedroom and an idea suddenly came to him. Sherlock deserved a reward for his hard work. He never publicly took credit for solving crimes, and some of the Yarders still treated him like a red headed stepchild, although the two worst offenders of the lot, Donovan and Anderson, had been unceremoniously canned, not for their cruel words, but for being caught having sex in a police car at the scene of a murder. John couldn't help but smile at that; as he was the one that caught them and reported them to Greg, who finally had the last straw and reported them to his superior. Last he heard, Donovan was working as a school crossing guard, and Anderson had slinked back to his wife and the two quietly moved out of London.

John put on his jacket and hastily scribbled a note for Sherlock saying he had to run an errand and would be back later. He left the note taped to Billy the skull and left the flat.

******

A now awake and refreshed Sherlock saw John's note. John had mentioned going to the store to pick up some milk, bread, and jam, so he paid it no mind and retrieved his violin, playing a happy melody. Several minutes later, John returned. He saw his husband standing by the window, wearing his purple dressing gown, playing, and decided not to announce his arrival. He quietly went into the kitchen, and removed a large pink box out of a bag, carefully setting it on the table.

Sherlock stopped playing, he somehow sensed John was back. He set his violin down. "John?" he called out.

"In the kitchen love," was the doctor's reply.

The detective followed John's voice and saw him standing with a big grin on his face. Then he saw the pink box and his heart started to flutter. "You've been to---" 

"Yes I have. Go ahead, open it," John softly interrupted.

Sherlock wasted no time opening the box and gasped at he saw was inside. His mouth started to water. It was a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, his favorite. Chocolate curls dyed red were expertly placed on top. He beamed at John. "What a wonderful surprise. What's the occasion? Have I forgotten something?"

John shook his head. "I wanted to show how much I love and appreciate you, especially after solving the case last night. You risk your life to keep London safe, and you don't get enough credit for it. So I decided to surprise you with your favorite cake. And I also called in an order to Angelo for dinner to be delivered later. But right now, let's enjoy some of this delicious dessert."

Sherlock threw his arms around John and kissed him soundly. "I have the most caring and loving husband in the world. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me."

John kissed him back. "You so deserve it, my beautiful man."

They didn't end up eating cake until after dinner, as Sherlock wanted to continue expressing his thanks to John in a more carnal way, but that made their sweet treat much more delicious. 


	10. Chapter 10 - Handle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is hospitalized after a case goes wrong. Sherlock takes time to ponder their relationship.

The nurses had given Sherlock a comfortable recliner to sit in as he stayed with John in his hospital room. He had been there all night, and now it was dawn. Rain could be heard softly hitting the window next to John's bed. The doctor was sleeping soundly, and some color had come back to his face. 

John had been admitted after the suspect he and Sherlock were chasing somehow managed to slip down a hidden alley and snuck up on the two. John had for some reason felt something was wrong, and as he turned around, he saw the suspect raise a knife. John moved back, but unfortunately managed to sustain a nasty slice on his forearm. Despite the pain and the bleeding, he was able to tackle the suspect while Sherlock cuffed him. Lestrade and his crew got there two minutes later, and called for an ambulance after seeing John's injury.

John had received a tetanus shot as a precaution, and his injury was cleaned and bandaged. The doctor wanted him to stay overnight for observation and to give him some pain medicine. 

Sherlock kept blaming himself for the bungle. Both John and Lestrade had chastised him for constantly running off after suspects and he always promised he wouldn't go alone without backup. Well this time he had John and still it went wrong.

Sherlock wondered how John put up with him after all these years. The detective knew he was hard to handle. He was stubborn, arrogant, impatient---qualities most people wouldn't put up with, and especially in a relationship. Some of the Yarders had even told Sherlock point blank how lucky he was to have John, because anyone else would get fed up with his attitude and leave. Sherlock knew he was extremely lucky. John had the patience of a saint. Several saints actually. But Sherlock knew John loved him unconditionally, and Sherlock loved John the same way. 

John stirred a little, but there was no agony or pain on his face. He hummed softly, and slowly, as his eyes opened up. Sherlock gently brushed his forehead with his palm. "John," he greeted him with a whisper.

John turned towards his husband's voice and gave a little grin. "Hey you."

"How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked.

"My arm hurts like hell but other than that, much better. You stayed here all night?"

Sherlock nodded. John sighed and stroked Sherlock's hand with his fingers. "You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened. We didn't know he was armed with a knife. Everything turned out okay."

"I can't help it John, but I do feel a lot better knowing you feel a lot better." He leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips. "I'll get a nurse and see if she can give you some more pain medicine."

Just as Sherlock got out of his chair, a nurse entered the room. "Hello Doctor Watson, Mr. Holmes. Doctor Watson, I have a pain pill for you. Once this kicks in and you've had breakfast, you can go home."

John and Sherlock smiled at each other, extremely relieved. "Thank you," John told the nurse.

Everything was going to turn out okay. There wasn't anything the Baker Street Boys couldn't handle.


	11. Chapter 11 - Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a hot summer, Sherlock, John, and Rosie find a fun way to cool off.

London was experiencing one of the hottest summers on record. Thanks to the ungodly heat, major crime seemed to decrease and Sherlock wasn't being called on many cases so he was home a lot. John had left the clinic and was now an on-call doctor for St. Bart's A&E, so he no longer had long shifts away from home. Sherlock loved having John available more, especially since Rosie was now fifteen months, a very mobile and curious little toddler, and it was easier having two people chase after her.

It was a scorching Tuesday late morning when there was a knock on the door. Sherlock was at the morgue picking up a cooler of fingers Molly had saved for him, so it was John and Rosie in the flat. Rosie was on her play mat entertaining herself and babbling. John opened the door and there was a delivery man with a large package. John grinned and signed for it, dragging it inside.

"Rosie, Daddy has a special treat for us and Papa. Want to help me open this box?"

Rosie squealed and toddled over. John retrieved a box cutter and sat on the floor, carefully slicing open one side of the package. He pulled out the item and grinned at his little girl. "Now it's time to start getting ready. Hopefully by the time we're done, Papa will be home."

*****

Sherlock eventually found John and Rosie on the roof, sitting inside a big inflatable swimming pool. Rosie was having a ball splashing, singing, and dumping water out of buckets. "Come on in love, the water's fine," John told his husband. "Get cooled off for a bit."

Sherlock wasted no time changing into a pair of swim trunks and re-joining his spouse and daughter, stepping into the pool and sinking down in the cool water, sighing blissfully. John retrieved a bottle of sunblock from the ground and rubbed it all over Sherlock's chest, back, and front of his face. "Don't want my beautiful genius becoming a boiled lobster."

Sherlock chuckled and pressed a kiss to John's cheek, preening a little at the compliment. "Thank you. So this is a surprise. A very appreciated one, but unexpected."

John laughed. "The real surprise is keeping it from you. I wanted us to have a private place where we could cool off and de-stress during the summer, and where Rosie could learn how to safely swim and play."

Rosie crawled through the water to Sherlock and plopped down on his lap, kicking her legs happily and babbling. "She's loving it," Sherlock said. "John, this was a brilliant idea."

"I have those every now and then," John playfully replied.

The three of them enjoyed their pool for another hour, then went back in to enjoy a nice lunch before Rosie was bathed and put down for her afternoon nap. Sherlock retired to the kitchen to work on his collection of fingers, and John tidied up the living room. After he completed his chore, John walked over to Sherlock, bent down, and whispered in his ear, "maybe later this evening we can go back in the pool for some private lessons."


	12. Chapter Twelve - Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John posts a drink recipe on his blog.

**From the Blog of John H. Watson-Holmes**

Hello readers,

No case entry today, instead I wanted to post a recipe for you all, and here's why...

A private client that owns a Mexican restaurant gave us a big cheer basket full of his best booze and I spent this weekend playing bartender. I had a lot of fun and ended up making a great margarita, so below is my recipe for my perfect margarita:

_John's Perfect Margarita_

_2 oz. tequila of your choice ( I had Reposado)_

_1 oz. Cointreau_

_3/4 oz. lime juice (you can use fresh or frozen, I prefer fresh)_

_Salt_

Pour the first three ingredients into a glass or a shaker filled with ice. Mix using the shaker or pour from one glass into another until satisfied, with the liquid ending back into the glass with the ice. Squeeze some lime juice around the rim of the glass, then add a little salt to the rim. Then enjoy!

(It's even more attractive and perfect when a certain gorgeous consulting detective puts his gorgeous lips on the rim of the glass and licks off some of the salt). 😍

Until next time,

John

(After the certain gorgeous consulting detective read John's entry, he just may have taken some lime juice and salt and poured it onto the chest of a certain handsome army doctor as an experiment to see if it tasted better on the glass or on his husband). 😉


	13. Chapter 13 - Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has another reason to be glad he left the clinic.

John closed the door to the flat, hung his jacket on the coat hook, and stepped out of his shoes. He headed to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Just then, Sherlock emerged from the hallway, wearing his favorite dressing gown over his shirt and slacks. He went into the kitchen and upon seeing John, greeted his husband with a kiss. "Hey," John said, kissing him back. "Want a cup of tea?"

"That would be great. Little Watson-Holmes was very stubborn this afternoon, not wanting to take her nap without me reading her five stories. She kept pointing at books and saying "more!"

John chuckled. "She's really exposing more and more of her personality isn't she?"

Sherlock sat down at the table. "She's showing us who's boss John, at only fifteen months." A devious smile formed on his lips. "Perhaps we should arrange for Mycroft to babysit one day."

John mentally pictured their little toddler ordering Mycroft around and he couldn't help but grin. If anyone could rile Mycroft up, it was definitely Rosie, although his brother-in-law had a soft spot for his niece.

"Speaking of bosses, I have to tell you, after my lunch with Sarah and Valerie today, I'm even more glad I left the clinic." John added water to the kettle and turned on the stove, sitting down across from Sherlock. "They have a new office manager, and he's made some changes that are not sitting well with everyone."

"Oh? Like what?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, he decided to extend hours to 7:00 pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which I understand will be convenient to patients who work past five, but on those days he also changed the opening hours to 7:00 am. Those are going to be long, draining days for everyone. He's also considering opening on Saturdays too. Valerie already told him she can't do Saturdays because she has to babysit her grandson while her daughter does home care. I think he'll get enough pushback on keeping the clinic closed on Saturdays, there are already a couple of urgent cares in the city that are open seven days a week."

The kettle whistled, and John got up to get the mugs, milk, and sugar for Sherlock. As he started preparing the mugs, Sherlock stood to wrap his arms around John, who leaned back to the warmth. "I'm glad you quit the clinic, although I know you do enjoy being able to use your medical skills."

"To be honest, my skills really weren't put to the test there. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my co-workers, but day after day of treating colds, the flu, general aches and pains, and stomach ailments---it may be just fine for some, but you know me, I need excitement, and just being on-call for A&E knowing I may have to go in to help with emergencies and more serious illnesses---I guess I just feel more validated as a doctor. And being on-call means spending more time with the two people I love most in this world."

Sherlock smiled and pressed a kiss to John's silvery blond hair. "I love that you're home so much, and can come to crime scenes without worrying about being fired."

John laughed. "Yeah, that too. You were smart to become a consulting detective, you're your own boss."

He handed Sherlock his mug and took his to the table. The two sat and sipped their tea, making small talk for the next hour. John cleaned the mugs and set them aside to dry, then pulled Sherlock into a hug. "How about we have a nap of our own?" he suggested.

"That sounds lovely John," Sherlock replied.

The two headed to their bedroom, and day clothes were exchanged for comfy pajamas. Just as the two got comfy under the sheets, the baby monitor came alive to the cries of a certain little girl. "Dada! Papa!"

John and Sherlock exchanged glances and shook their heads. "She's got the greatest timing hasn't she?" John said with a sigh. "You stay there, I'll attend to her."

John made his way to Rosie's nursery. Rosie was standing in her crib and upon seeing her daddy she raised her arms. "Up! Up!" she demanded.

John couldn't help but laugh and scooped her up into his arms. "Dada," Rosie murmured, grabbing his chin.

"Okay Miss Watson-Holmes, let's go see Papa," John told her. 

Rosie was happily babbling as John entered he and Sherlock's room. She immediately held out her arms when she saw Sherlock. "Papa!"

Sherlock took Rosie from John and cuddled her to his chest, and she burrowed, in yawning. "I guess she's still sleepy."

"She can nap with us then. I bet that's what she wanted all along," John replied, shaking his head. "We've got a smart one here, just like you." He crawled into bed and snuggled up against Sherlock and Rosie. 

"She's going to make a formidable boss when she's an adult," Sherlock predicted.

"Lord help those who'll be working for her," John said sleepily.

It wasn't long before John, Sherlock, and their baby boss fell into a peaceful sleep.


	14. Chapter 14 - Ugly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Valentine's Day, John is suffering from self-esteem issues. Sherlock lets him know how much he's loved.  
> This is a spinoff of Chapter 1's "Secret." Omegaverse/Mpreg but works as a standalone story.

John watched the freezing rain fall from the dreary sky and saw some people down below carefully walking, trying not to slip on the unsalted sidewalks. He was glad he wasn't out there, since he was five months pregnant. Apart from some morning sickness and stomach cramps in the first trimester, the pregnancy was going smoothly and physically John felt fine, so the last thing he needed was a nasty fall on some ice.

He just wished he was great _mentally_ and _emotionally._ Although he was ecstatic at carrying Sherlock's child and he couldn't wait to meet their little boy in four months, John felt like he was the ugliest person in London. During his days at the clinic, he had treated quite a few pregnant omegas who came in for colds & viruses, and even while sick they looked amazing, with glowing skin and gorgeous hair. John looked in the mirror and saw heavy bags under his eyes, greying, thinning hair, and dry skin. His breasts were filling in, preparing for the milk that John would be feeding their baby, and instead of being perky, they were a bit saggy. He looked old, tired, and rundown.

John glanced down at his stomach. "I'm just about to warn you now little one, your papa isn't going to be the best looking parent in the world. Your daddy will fill the looks quotient for me though." He sighed and sat down on the bed.

******

Sherlock was busily setting the table. Red tablecloth, check. Crystal globe with lit candle, check. The expensive bottle of Opus One French red wine Mycroft gifted them for their bonding anniversary, breathing and ready to be poured, check. A bottle of non-alcoholic red Eisberg wine for John, ready to be poured, check. Now all he needed was the delivery of Angelo's amazing spaghetti with clams and garlic, breadsticks, and tiramisu.

Due to the bad weather, Sherlock and John had decided to spend Valentine's Day at their flat with a romantic dinner. Earlier in the day the two had exchanged small gifts. John gave Sherlock tickets to the Jack the Ripper Museum and a box of macaroons from La Maison du Chocolat, his favorite candy shop. Sherlock had given John a restored copy of Gray's Anatomy and a box of salted chocolate caramels from Artisian du Chocolat. 

Sherlock had also noticed John wasn't his usual chipper, humorous self. While John was grateful for his gifts and was very affectionate with his alpha, Sherlock could tell something was bothering him underneath the surface. He didn't want to press his omega on it, because of John's heightened hormones. He just hoped John would tell him what was wrong.

******

John felt a little better after freshening up. He ran some gel through his hair and it looked a little more shiny. He'd moisturized himself with some of Sherlock's luxury lotion, and changed into a red button down that still fit over his belly, black cords, and a black cardigan. "Okay baby boy, let's join daddy for dinner. Papa's pretty hungry." 

He left the bedroom just as Sherlock was calling him letting him know their food was here. John entered the kitchen and smiled at the romantic scene in front of him. "It looks beautiful," he commented.

"Not as beautiful as you," Sherlock commented back, casting an appreciative glance at his mate. "You look gorgeous, so healthy, and getting full with our pup. I can't wait to ravish you tonight."

John smiled sadly. "Are you sure? I sure haven't been feeling gorgeous these past few weeks. I've been looking a right mess, and you, you're beautiful and striking as always. How can you stand to be with such an ugly omega like me?" 

Sherlock vehemently shook his head, striding over to John and taking him into his arms. "Oh John, is this why you've been so down lately? I knew something was amiss but I didn't want to ask you because I didn't want to upset you." He peered down into John's blue eyes. "You are not an ugly omega. You are handsome, you are strong, you are funny, you are beautiful, you tolerate my strops and moods. Don't even think for a second I'd want anyone else. You are _perfect."_

John's eyes welled up with tears. "Oh Sherlock, I've been so stupid. I guess that I bought into the stereotype of how a pregnant person will automatically look glowing and gorgeous, and when that wasn't happening with me...I started to feel sorry for myself and really low."

Sherlock held him tight and kissed his hair. "Well, the time to stop feeling low begins now. We have this delicious dinner to eat, and later, I'm going to prepare us a nice, warm bubble bath. Then I'm going to lay you down in our bed and worship every inch of you, as you should be." He gently caressed John's swollen belly. "You're carrying precious cargo in there, and doing an excellent job taking care of little Hudson Holmes-Watson."

John gazed up at his mate, happy tears streaming down his face. "Thank you love. You don't know how much those words mean to me. And yes, let's eat, I'm starving."

Seconds later, John felt a kick in his stomach and his eyes widened. "Sherlock, he just kicked me! I think he's ready for dinner too."

Sherlock laughed and kissed John. "He's a smart one already."

"Taking after you," John replied, kissing him back.

The two sat down to their Valentine's meal, and John no longer felt like an ugly old omega. He felt beautiful, and cherished, and suddenly this icy, dreary Valentine's Day became bright and wonderful. 


	15. Chapter 15 -Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock doesn't think he's that sick. John disagrees. A very short, fluffy fic.

"Sherlock, stop denying you're sick, and get into bed. You need your rest."

The detective shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not sick. It's just a little sniffle." But the giant sneeze and the huge yellow blob of snot that erupted from his nose after pleading his case betrayed him.

John took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Sherlock's nose clean, throwing the used fabric into the laundry hamper. "You have an infection love. Now stop arguing with me and get into bed. I'll pop down to the clinic, pick up some antibiotics, and in a few days you'll be right as rain."

Sherlock grumbled and muttered to himself. "It's just a cold John."

John gave him a _who do you think you're talking to_ look, like Sherlock did to him when John was in obvious denial about something. Sherlock was wise to keep quiet. 

"As a doctor who's seen his fair share of viruses, yellow nasal secretion is a sure sign that you've caught something more than the common cold. No, you have a viral infection. Which will clear up with antibiotics and lots of rest. Now again, stop arguing and get into bed. I know you're tired."

Sherlock accepted that he'd lost this argument, and followed his doctor's orders. John smiled and bent down to kiss him, gently feeling his forehead, which was slightly warm. 

"You've also developed a slight fever. Just relax. Let me get the medicine. I'll be back in less than half an hour."

John left the bedroom, washed and dried his hands in the loo, before putting on his cardigan. "Silly git," he murmured to himself as he opened the door and left the flat.

Sherlock was fast asleep before John made it to the bottom of the stairs. 


	16. Chapter 16 - Trinket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To many, it may have been a cheap piece of jewelry, but to Sherlock, it was a worthy treasure.

Six months ago, Sherlock and John had finally decided to say goodbye to London. The detective was fifty, John fifty-three, and even though both were still in excellent physical health, both their hearts weren't in it anymore to chase after criminals. After announcing their retirement, and a bittersweet celebration that followed, the Baker Street Boys became the Chiltington Lane Boys, and settled into their new home, a historic country house with one and three-quarter acres of beautiful gardens. The home had plenty of space so friends and family could come and visit if they wanted. There was even a separate cottage on the grounds, which Sherlock and John had dutifully made into an apiary so Sherlock could pursue his dream hobby of raising bees. John decided to work his magic on the gardens, planting flowers and vegetables that he would tend to.

The day that Sherlock's apiary was finally complete, a doozy of a thunderstorm had settled over the town. While Sherlock was napping, exhausted from all the hard work he'd done transforming guest quarters into a workable building to store bees, John had retired to the sitting room, cozied up on the sofa under a soft blanket, doing some online shopping on his laptop while listening to the rain pounding against the windows and the booming thunder. He was on Amazon, perusing a specific type of item. After twenty minutes, he'd found what he wanted and placed the order, set to be delivered in just a few days. Satisfied, he went to brew some tea, and returned to his cozy corner. It wasn't long before he gave into his own exhaustion and fell fast asleep on the sofa, spurred on by the relaxing sounds of the spring storm outside.

******

A few days later, John got the package he was so excited to receive. He wrapped it in yellow tissue paper and set it down in on top of he and Sherlock's bed while Sherlock was in the shower. A card with an envelope lay on top of the package. John then went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through his body. He hoped Sherlock would like his surprise.

******

Sherlock noticed the card and wrapped box as soon as he got out of the shower. Intrigued, he quickly dried himself off and wrapped his dressing gown around him, sitting down to open the card. He chuckled at seeing a drawing of a hive surrounded by bees and flowers, with the saying "You're the Bees Knees circling the hive. Inside, was a message from John.

_My beautiful man,_

_I'm so thrilled that we are spending what I hope is the rest of our lives on this beautiful farm. You don't know how wonderful it is to see you so happy knowing you are about to make your dream come true, and I'm so thrilled that I get to be by your side as it happens._

_Along with this card is a little trinket I thought would help commemorate this moment of you becoming the gentlemen beekeeper of Sussex you told me you'd always hoped. I guess you could say it was "meant to bee."_

_All my love,_

_John_

Sherlock giggled at John's ending pun, and eagerly opened up the box. Inside lay a gold plated bee pin. It was obvious it wasn't plated with actual gold, but it was a beautiful piece of jewelry. Sherlock grinned brightly as he took it out to examine it. 

Setting it on the bed, he got dressed, putting on a gray T-shirt and matching cotton joggers. He slipped his dressing gown back on and proudly pinned the bee on. 

He walked into the kitchen, and smiled at seeing John cooking pasta on the stove. "John," Sherlock greeted him cheerfully.

John's excitement was on the verge of bubbling over as he turned to see his husband. He saw the bee pin and beamed. "Oh Sherlock, it looks smashing on you. I hope you like it."

Sherlock immediately took John into his arms and peppered him with kisses. "I love it. And the card, and what you wrote---you are such a caring, thoughtful, amazing man and I'm so incredibly happy that you are all mine."

John melted into Sherlock, sighing happily that his spouse loved his token of affection. "You are going to be the best beekeeper that England has ever seen."

And when Sherlock started to work in his apiary, he always wore his pin on his beekeeper's suit, calling it his good luck trinket. To many, it may have been a cheap piece of jewelry, but to Sherlock, it was a worthy treasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bee pin:


	17. Chapter 17 - Delusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock helps John be a bit more realistic when it comes to family troubles.

"Hey Sherlock, glad you could join us, sorry about the 5 am wakeup call. I see John's not with you, does he have to work today?"

Sherlock shook his head as he followed Greg to the crime scene. "John's out of town visiting his sister. She called him yesterday afternoon begging him to come, Clara left her again, and she threatened to start drinking again."

"Christ Sherlock, I feel bad for John with his sibling troubles. I don't know how he tolerates it," Greg said sympathetically. 

"John feels guilty for not keeping up a relationship with Harry, even though she was the one that ran out on the family and completely severed ties with him for so many years. I've said my peace about him dropping everything for her whenever she calls and cries to him when her life falls apart. He holds hope that one day she'll get it together, I told him to stop believing in that delusion and make her do it on her own, but he got angry and said he couldn't."

Greg bent down next to Sherlock as the detective began to examine the body. "Harsh words, but then again, that might be what he needed to hear."

Sherlock nodded crisply. "Precisely." No more words were spoken as he got down to business, but silently he hoped John was okay.

******  
John arrived home in the early evening. Sherlock was there, having already solved the case. He got up to greet him, kissing his cheek. 

"John? Is everything okay?"

John sighed and rubbed his face. "For now. Clara came back, and she and Harry have agreed to do marriage counseling. I'm just glad Harry didn't take a drink. We took a walk, went to lunch, watched crap telly."

He wrapped his arms around Sherlock. "I can't do this anymore. You were right, always are. Harry needs to grow up and deal with her personal problems without me always running to her. I just hope this time, it works out. If not, I have to face the fact that it's her choice to be a mess and stop this delusion that if I play caring little brother enough she'll see the light."

Sherlock kissed John's hair and gave him a comforting squeeze. "I hope they work out their problems too John. You have your own life to live. And I'm sorry if I was harsh with you about it. You were only trying to be supportive."

John looked up at Sherlock and softly kissed him. "It's okay. I'm just glad to be home and with you. There's no place I'd rather be."

Sherlock smiled affectionately at him, kissed him back, and led John to the sofa. Why don't you take off your shoes and relax. I'll fix you a cup of tea and order us some takeaway, how's that?"

"Sounds perfect. I love you."

"I love you too," Sherlock replied.

"Now how about you tell me about the case you solved today. I got your text but wasn't able to respond," John said.

As Sherlock regaled to him the exciting details, John lay back on the sofa and smiled, the stress from the last two days slowly beginning to ease away from his both his body and his mind.


	18. Chapter 18 - Property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the most important day of Sherlock's life, some interesting thoughts creep into his head.  
> Extremely short, fluffy fic.

It was a funny thing to think about, during a beautiful sunny day inside the Rose Garden at Regent's park, but Sherlock's brain wasn't like anyone else's brain, so funny thoughts would invade his head from time to time.

Centuries ago, many marriages were pretty much property exchanges. The bride's family would have a dowry, and technically sell her to the groom. Even now, in some cultures throughout the world, brides were still considered property.

But Sherlock was not a bride. No, he was a groom, and about to get happily wed to another groom, his marvelous John Watson, on a lovely Sunday afternoon in May at one of their favorite places to visit.

And their marriage was definitely not an exchange of property, but an exchange of true love and friendship. 

Sherlock's funny thought instantly evaporated when he heard the beginning sounds of Bach's Air on G String, expertly played by Mycroft on his violin, and his lips expanded into the widest, most happiest smile he could make, when he saw his beloved walking forward to meet him, also sporting a matching smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had them get married in May because today, a doozy of an ice storm came through, leaving about two inches of pure sleet on the ground, and it's only 30 degrees. Spring can't come fast enough!


	19. Chapter 19 - Greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are on holiday. John admires Sherlock at the pool.

John was surprised when Sherlock suggested they go on holiday. The detective only traveled out of London for cases, and as soon as he solved one, he didn't want to hang around and play tourist. John, on the other hand, liked checking out what the cities and towns had to offer, as a way to de-stress after the case was over, but never had time as Sherlock was dragging him off the to the train station to return back home.

It was a chilly, rainy Friday night when Sherlock made his suggestion. John was searching pasta recipes on his laptop, Sherlock was on the sofa web surfing on his phone. It was a quiet, relaxing evening. Then suddenly Sherlock jumped up, went over to John, kissed him, and asked him if he'd like to go away with him. When John asked if it was another case, Sherlock said no, an actual holiday. The doctor was shocked to say the least, but Sherlock explained that he felt bad not allowing John time for fun while they were on their last out of town case in Brighton, and he wanted to make it up to him.

When John asked if they were going to Brighton, Sherlock smirked, said "nope, a place much better---Greece, specifically the island of Santorini." So nearly three weeks later, they were at the luxurious Winery Hotel 1870 on the Greek island of Santorini, soaking up the sun and enjoying the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of Greece. The two were having a great time, and John was extremely glad to leave the chilly, damp October weather of London behind for the next two weeks.

It was a sun-drenched, warm late morning and John and Sherlock were at the hotel pool. John had just finished doing laps and decided to take a rest in one of the comfortable loungers that was looked almost like a king size bed. He and Sherlock were the only ones at the pool.

John watched his husband do graceful laps, admiring the ripple of Sherlock's muscles as he moved effortlessly in the water, his deep blue eyes taking in the detective's long, lean frame going up and down the lane of the pool. It was fitting, John thought, that they were in Greece, because he often thought Sherlock as a Greek god, molded right from the flesh of Zeus himself, with his raven-haired curls, heavenly eyes, creamy skin, and perfect body.

And when Sherlock emerged from the pool twenty minutes later, water dripping and running down his figure, which was clad in a form-fitting pair of black swim trunks, running his large hands through his dark curls, a knowing grin on his face as he saw his spouse, John was sure Sherlock had read his mind.

Sherlock grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, joining John on the lounger. He leaned in and kissed John and rested his head on his shoulder. "For the record John, I also think of you as a Greek god, the god Aether. He was the god of light and the upper atmosphere. He embodies the pure air that other gods need to breathe. For you are my conductor of light and every time I see you smiling at me, or congratulating me on solving a case, you take my breath away, but give it back to me again and again, even stronger than before."

John responded to Sherlock's beautiful words with a passionate kiss and a whispered suggestion of returning to their room for a romantic tryst in their outdoor hot tub. Sherlock smiled, got up, took John's hand, and the two were soon on their way to an afternoon of pure Greek bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the hotel John & Sherlock are staying at:  
> [The Hotel Winery 1870](https://www.santoriniwineryhotel.com/)


	20. Chapter 20 - Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting at a club's costume night.
> 
> Sherlock and John are in their 20's. I also took inspiration for the picture of Martin in the French maid's outfit that showed up online a few weeks ago.

"Nope, sorry, not interested. Besides, I don't think your girlfriend of two years would appreciate you hitting on me and every tall dark-haired man in the club."

The other guy's face turned murderous, but Sherlock just tossed his head. "No need to hit me or curse me out, it's not my fault you're a cheater. Now get lost."

Said cheater stalked off, mumbling a string of curse words. Sherlock rolled his eyes and took another sip of his red wine.

"I see you've managed to charm another one," Irene teased, sliding onto the stool next to her friend.

"He had a girlfriend. I'm not a homewrecker," Sherlock retorted.

"Fair point," Irene said, signaling the bartender, asking for a pink lady cocktail. 

"This is dull. Why did you drag me here again?" Sherlock asked.

Irene snorted. "Because you're a hermit and you need to get out once in a while, see how the common folks play. Seriously Sherry, it's not healthy to be cooped up in that tiny drafty flat of yours. You need to live a little."

"You call this living?" Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "A dingy club full of drunks, adulterers and creeps?"

"Don't knock this club babe. It's where I met Molly, and we're a year strong now." Irene looked at him pointedly.

"Molly is a rare exception and we both know it."

"True, but give this place a chance. You disregard things way too easily, and that's why you're alone and miserable," Irene countered.

"Alone is what I have, alone protects me," Sherlock spat.

"It's not going to protect you forever love," Irene gently argued. "And even you're smart enough to know that."

Sherlock didn't answer, he just took another sip of wine and sighed. The truth was he hadn't found anyone interesting enough. There had to be somebody out there for him, but who?

******

"Harry, I can't believe you want to come _here_ ," John told his sister. "This place is grungy." He grimaced as the black high heel patent pumps he was wearing pinched his toes. He wondered what got into him, agreeing to accompany his sister and her girlfriend to Club Freak. And dressed up in a French maid's uniform and heels no less. The club was having a costume night, and John didn't have a costume to wear, so he went through his friend Mike Stamford's stash of Halloween costumes he and his sister had kept over the years. He'd pulled out the maid outfit, the only one that fit him properly, and the black heels were his mother's, they both wore the same size. John had to admit he didn't look half bad, but the shoes were uncomfortable. 

"That's exactly why I like it. You know me, sophistication is not my style."

"Well me neither, but I'd like to think we have _some_ decorum," John softly shot back.

"Come on, let's go in and grab some seats," Harry said, taking Clara's hand. John rolled his eyes and followed.

The three managed to secure a table against the wall. "John, will you fetch us a round? I'll pay," Harry asked, taking money out of her purse and handing it to her brother.

"You just want to see my stumble around in these heels," John grumbled.

Harry grinned madly. "Definitely, little brother. It's not everyday I get to see you strutting around in heels and a maid's outfit."

"The things I do for family," John muttered as he headed to the bar.

*****

Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the short blond in the French maid's uniform walking with a woman that was definitely his sister and another woman that was the sister's girlfriend. He like himself, definitely didn't want to be here, judging by the look on his face, but there was something interesting about him. It also didn't hurt he was good-looking, and his muscular legs were a complete contrast against the flirty delicateness of the maid's outfit. 

Several moments later, Sherlock saw him approaching the bar, and he let out a sharp breath. Irene, nursing her second Pink Lady, saw the look on her friend's face and let out a giggle. "Looks like coming here was a good idea, judging how you're gaping at the hot blond over there."

"Shut up," Sherlock hissed, but there was no heat or anger in his words.

John came to stand right next to him. He glanced over at Sherlock, taking notice of his lean body and unusually handsome face. He was dressed as a pirate, and the knee-high black leather boots Sherlock sported were doing things to John's mind and groin. John had recently come out as bisexual, after a few short-term relationships with women that didn't go anywhere, and he was ready to explore and date a man. A guy that looked like Sherlock though, probably wouldn't be attracted to a short, ordinary person such as himself.

The bartender made his way to John, who ordered two screwdrivers and a pint of Guinness. While he waited for the drinks, he heard a smooth baritone speak up. 

"You don't want to be here tonight."

John turned his head in the direction of that velvety voice and saw it was the gorgeous tall curly haired man he'd admired earlier. "What? Oh yeah, not really. How'd you know?"

Sherlock smirked. "Because I don't want to be here either. My friend," he replied, jerking his head towards Irene, "insisted I come to socialize."

John chuckled. "This is not the place for socializing, but sexualizing, if you get my drift."

"Is that why you're dressed as a French maid?" Sherlock questioned with a coy smile.

John glanced down at his outfit and a blush spread on his face. "No, I'm not on the pull. My sister and her girlfriend wanted to come and like your friend they insisted I come too. I didn't have a costume so I raided my friend's stash. This was the only one that fit me."

Sherlock looked at John's feet. "You wear heels quite well."

John snorted. "Ok, you're just taking the piss. These damn things are hurting my feet like something else, and they do not look good on me at all. My feet are way too muscular and wide for them."

"Why did you wear them then?" Sherlock inquired.

"Because trainers would have been ridiculous. But after an hour of wearing these bloody heels, I'd prefer ridiculous and comfortable to stylish and sexy that pinches your toes. I'm about ready to chuck them and go barefoot."

"Mmm, I'd rather you not. At least for now," Sherlock whispered.

John blushed even harder. "You can't be serious."

"Oh I am, believe me. I find you extremely attractive. You're the most interesting person in this lousy place," Sherlock answered huskily.

John licked his lips, a habit of his when he was aroused. "Really? Well, I think you're bloody gorgeous. Those boots are hot on you."

John's drinks were ready. He paid the bartender. "Let me take these screwdrivers over to Harry and Clara, and I'll be right back to continue this discussion about how beautiful we look in our footwear." He carefully returned to the two women, handing them their drinks. Sherlock watched John like a hawk, and saw him point in his direction. He saw Harry and Clara look at him, then grin madly. Harry made a thumbs up sign. Sherlock laughed and eagerly waited for John to return.

"Okay I'm back. Would you like another one of those?" John asked, pointing to Sherlock's glass of wine.

"No I'm good, this is my second glass. Let's go find a more private place," Sherlock said, sliding off his barstool.

As the two left, Irene clapped her hands. "Go get 'em Sherry!" she happily exclaimed. She downed the rest of her drink, laid some money on the bar, and decided it was time to return home. Molly would be back from work soon and she wanted to be there to greet her, and now that Sherlock found his interesting person, she figured he no longer needed her.

As for the French maid and the pirate, they decided not to stick around and to admire each other's shoe choice back at Sherlock's flat. John texted Harry to let him know he was leaving with Sherlock.

The two stepped out into the mild night. John felt Sherlock put his arm around him, and he couldn't help but smile. These heels weren't such a bad choice after all.


	21. Chapter 21 - Sigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys enjoy a getaway to the beach.

It was a warm Friday afternoon on Kingsgate Bay, and Sherlock and John were lying on a blanket, snuggled together listening to the gentle lapping of the waves and the occasional cry of seagulls. The two had chosen this beach because not a lot of people visited it, passing it up in favor of Joss Bay and Botany Bay, and quiet was exactly what they needed after wrapping up a difficult case involving black market baby stealers. It was John who suggested coming to Kingsgate; he had been here right before shipping off to Afghanistan. Sherlock had never been since he always vacationed with his family as a child to Sussex where his parents owned a cottage, or on the beaches of France.

Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's hair and sighed happily. He felt so peaceful, as if tons of weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He and John definitely needed to do short getaways more frequently.

John opened his eyes, feeling hair brush his chin. He looked down and saw Sherlock's head resting on his chest. John smiled and gently ruffled his husband's curls. He heard Sherlock hum and sigh in approval, and continued to massage the detective's head.

"You feel like getting some lunch?" John asked, removing his hand from Sherlock's curls and beginning to rub his back.

"Not right now. I just want to lay here with you a little longer and take in this ocean air," Sherlock replied, burying his face into John's shirt.

They lasted ten minutes before Sherlock's stomach announced its annoyance at not having any food in it. John laughed and gently pushed Sherlock off of him. "I think it's time to eat love."

Sherlock huffed, but his lips quirked up into a grin. He yawned and stretched and stood up, smoothing down his shirt and stepping into his shoes. "Let's make it quick, I want to get back here and cuddle with you some more."

John giggled and kissed his spouse. "You're such a romantic."

"Shh, don't spill my secret," Sherlock joked. 

After a bite to eat at Captain Digby, the two were back on their blanket, Sherlock wrapped around John tightly, another happy sigh escaping from his lips. "I don't ever want to leave this place," he murmured.

"Well, we don't have to, at least not for the next few days. While you were napping earlier, I booked us a room at the Land & Life apartments. We'll have more time to do a little sightseeing and relax on the beach," John said.

Sherlock lifted his head and beamed at John. "You're brilliant! But what about clothes and toiletries, we didn't pack anything---"

"A text to Mycroft took care of that. Our things will be delivered to our room before the day is over."

Sherlock pushed John down on the blanket, kissing him soundly. When he was done, he let out another sigh of content. "I'm so glad I married you."

"I'm glad you married me too. How about we take a walk along the shore, get our feet wet?" John suggested.

"You're on!" Sherlock replied cheerfully, pulling John to his feet, and soon the two were jogging towards the beach, hand in hand.


	22. Chapter 22 - Texture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock admires John's wardrobe.

The suit was dark navy with a subtle gray pinstripe, made from exquisite bespoke fabric, the texture sleek and smooth.

The cut was perfectly tailored to the body. A crisp white shirt was worn underneath the jacket, a navy silk tie attached to it.

On the feet were expensive Italian loafers, polished to the ultimate shine.

Sherlock reached out to touch the lapel, then raised his hand to gently caress John's cheek.

"You're amazing." Sherlock softly kissed John's forehead, which illicited a sweet giggle from the shorter man.

"You're regal." Another kiss, this time to the nose.

"You're gorgeous." Sherlock kissed John on the lips. 

John grinned. " I take it you like the suit then."

"I _love_ it. I can't believe you went to a tailor and had a custom suit made just for me." 

"It's not every day your fiance's parents treat you to a meal at Alain Ducasse. I wanted to make a good impression," John explained.

"You could have worn your tried and true oatmeal jumper and jeans, my parents adore you," Sherlock said.

"True, but I also wanted to show how much I love their son by getting the appropriate dinner attire and having him be proud of me."

Sherlock took John into his arms. " I am proud of you, every day. But yes, this suit takes my pride up a notch. Several notches. But you know the best part of this suit?"

"What's that?" John asked.

Sherlock smirked and leaned in close. "That later tonight I get to remove it from your body."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alain Ducasse is a real restaurant in London. Meals can run $450 a person. I'll just stick to Red Lobster, thanks! 😃


	23. Chapter 23 - Verbal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie's got a lot more to say.

Rosie Watson-Holmes was now twenty months, and she started saying a lot more words. She spoke her first word last fall when she was fifteen months. John assumed it would be "dada." Sherlock assumed it would be "murder" (to John's annoyance). 

It was neither of those. 

Rosie uttered her first word (a name actually), when Mycroft came one day for an unexpected visit. Rosie had taken to the British Government quite quickly, and Mycroft was very fond of his precious little niece. She had climbed on Mycroft's lap, pointed at her uncle, and announced loudly, "Mysoft!"

Mycroft was delighted to say the least, and Sherlock and John were both annoyed. 

Their annoyance would soon die down, as Rosie eventually started saying dada and pointing at John. Sherlock kept trying to teach the toddler his name, but she could never get it down. (She was fifteen months after all, and full articulation of consonant sounds doesn't kick in for another five or six years). But she was pretty good with what she was able to say. She'd point at Sherlock and happily yell "Sherpop!"

John loved it, so Sherpop was the detective's official moniker. Sherlock was her other pop after all, having adopted Rosie after he and John wed. Sherlock soon took a liking to his new name.

Now five months later, a more verbal Rosie had picked up many words: no, yes, hot, cold, uh-oh, hi, bye, Hudders (Mrs. Hudson got a kick out of that) biscuit, juice, milk, doggie, kitty, along with numerous body parts (thanks to Sherlock bringing home an assortment of them from the morgue). She could also say, please, thank you, love you, and knew the names of her parents' friends, her aunts Harry and Clara, and Sherlock's parents, whom she called Granmere and Granpere. 

John and Sherlock were pleased as punch at their daughter's burgeoning vocabulary---and they were really pleased with her when one day, John arrived to a crime scene with Rosie in tow. Donovan had naturally made her opinion known about the toddler being there, unpleasantly, and Rosie, not happy with the policewoman's attitude towards her father, narrowed her little blue eyes, and shouted a very clear "fuck you" at her. Donovan was aghast, Greg did a double take, and nearly the whole Yard stood there in stunned silence. 

John laughed like a maniac and told Donovan she had it coming, and Sherlock grinned and said, "that's our girl." 

Later, a lecture was given from Mycroft, who of course found out somehow about Rosie's little outburst, about being careful speaking around her, but Sherlock and John just ignored it like they pretty much ignored everything else Mycroft lectured them about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, Donovan did have it coming. 😉


	24. Chapter 24 - Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are quite a few moments in John's life he'd like to forget, but there's one that will stay with him forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in an alternate S4 universe where none of what actually happened in S4 existed.

Over John Watson's forty plus years, there were some bad memories he tried to forget. The first time his father hit his mother. The first time his father hit him. Harry being kicked out of the house for coming out. The numerous arguments and fights initiated by his father, spurred on by alcohol. Coming home from a draining residency shift at med school to find his girlfriend in bed with his best friend, and kicking them both out. Getting shot in Afghanistan that put an end to his surgery career. Moriarty and the pool, the Woman, Sherlock faking his death, his sham marriage to Mary, and probably the worst, finding out Rosie wasn't his, which meant Mary wasn't only an assassin, but an adulteress. He sure knew how to pick women.

One thing, or one person though, he would never forget and would never want to forget, was Sherlock Holmes. He'd become attracted to the detective shortly after he moved into Baker Street, but Sherlock had shot him down at Angelo's with his now infamous "married to my work" remark, and John decided not to push it further. He'd found the excitement and danger he'd been craving since he left the war in being Sherlock's flatmate and assistant, and he didn't want to ruin it.

So for seven years, he put his attraction aside and dated several women, those relationships going nowhere because he'd leave dates when Sherlock came calling or texting, in order to chase criminals. After his marriage and subsequent annulment, he decided to leave the dating world behind and just be content being a bachelor and Sherlock's crime-solving colleague.

Then came the day that would live in his own version of his mind palace forever.

It was a humid day in August, and a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. John was in Sussex for a medical conference, and Sherlock had come with him, since his parents' cottage was in Sussex and he wanted to take a look at the old apiaries in the back. And by staying there, the two didn't have to rent a hotel room.

John had returned to the cottage, and it had to started to rain. The water felt refreshing on him, and he stood there for a moment just taking the scenery in of the trees swaying in the summer's storm breeze, the fast swirling dark clouds, and the seashore far ahead of him. For a second he wondered what it would be like to feel this every summer. 

The rain was falling harder, and thunder roared in the sky. John began to jog towards the front porch, where Sherlock was coming around the corner, dripping wet, his dark curls plastered to his face---and shirtless.

John had seen Sherlock shirtless before, and he had a propensity to parade around the flat in some state of undress. But here, outside, with the rain pouring down and the thunder rumbling above, the genius looked he came from straight out of a romance novel. John literally gasped. Sherlock was gorgeous.

Sherlock stopped, removing the wet curls from his face. "John," he breathed.

"I---I just got home and the rain was so inviting, I stayed out here for a bit. Storms here are so different from storms in London, and---"

Sherlock cut him off by cupping his face and laying a searing kiss on his lips. John was shocked to say the least, and didn't react right away, but then gave into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Sherlock, and processing what was happening. Sherlock was kissing him, passionately. John thought Sherlock didn't feel that way about him. Maybe it was just them being away, the change of scenery. Sherlock would probably go right back into his cool indifference mode as soon as this was all over.

To his continued surprise, Sherlock continued to hold onto him after he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to John's. "I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I caught you off guard, but let me explain---"

This time John cut him off with a scorching kiss of his own. "No need to explain. I've been waiting for this for seven years," he whispered shakily after he was done.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "You have? Oh God, me too. I never should have turned you down that night at Angelo's. Then there wouldn't have been all those other women, no marriage to Mary. So many years of angst and wasted opportunities, because I was afraid to express my feelings. I didn't want you to leave."

"I didn't. I didn't then, and I'm sure as hell not now." John gazed lovingly into Sherlock's eyes. "Let's go inside, dry off, and talk about our future."

*****

The reverie faded, and John was back in the present, in his chair at Baker Street, mug of tea gone cold beside him. He smiled and got up to warm up his tea in the microwave. 

A few minutes later he heard familiar footsteps outside the flat and his smile grew wider. He heard the door open, and the baritone he grew to love announce he was home and had brought Angelo's back for dinner. John set his tea aside and went to greet his husband, his beautiful, crazy, and completely unforgettable man.


	25. Chapter 25 - Mystic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are about to retire after solving their last case. John blogs about it.
> 
> I had some difficulty with this prompt so I hope you like it!

_The Blog of John Watson-Holmes_

_The Case of the Mock-Up Mystic_

Dear Readers,

As you all know, Sherlock Holmes, The World's Only Consulting Detective, along with me, his trusty spouse, blogger, and conductor of light, are retiring after spending eleven years together solving crimes and digging deep in London's underbelly. Sherlock wanted our last case to be a good one to end on, and luckily for him, it was a dandy.

Last Friday night, Greg called us and asked us to come to the home of Carter Beckwith and his wife Morgan. The couple, part of London's young elite, had hosted a party to celebrate her thirtieth birthday.

Mrs. Beckwith had always been interested in the New Age movement and alternative religions so her husband hired a mystic who called herself Journey Divine. Ms. Divine was a reportedly popular self-proclaimed mystic with a popular YouTube channel who claimed she could communicate with gods and goddesses from many realms. She made a lot of money with her shtick, and had gained a large following from mostly young rich and middle-aged people who booked her for their social events.

It was at this particular party that Ms. Divine apparently got in contact with one of these deities, Asmodeus, who told the guests something terrible would happen at the party and for everyone to be on guard. About an hour later, the lights went out for five minutes, and when the lights came back on, Morgan Beckwith was found dead on the floor of her bedroom. 

Sherlock immediately began to examine the body, with me beside him, tuning out Anderson's predictable barrage of insipid insults. There were no outward signs of trauma, the body was clean. Sherlock right away suspected poison. 

I noticed seconds before he did that the lipstick was slightly smudged, as if she had perhaps wiped her lips. Sherlock looked at me, and his face lit up. I knew he'd solved it. He jumped up and began to spout off his deduction that the poison was put in the lipstick. When he questioned the husband, who was still in shock and grief over his wife's death, he said that his wife was going upstairs to their room to freshen up her lipstick, after it faded due to her putting her lips on the rim on a martini glass. But he didn't believe Sherlock's theory that poison was put into her lipstick. The bedroom door, as all doors upstairs, had been locked prior to the party to prevent guests from going into the rooms, so there was no chance someone could alter anything.

Sherlock wasn't buying it, but then one of the servers had come forward saying she'd seen Ms. Divine heading up the stairs shortly after Ms. Beckwith before the lights went out, and then after the lights came on, she was standing at the bottom of the stairs. She was confused at that because there was no way she could have gotten down the stairs in the dark without falling.

The next thing I knew Sherlock was swanning through the crowd, Belstaff flapping behind him epically, demanding to know where Ms. Divine was. Another server led him into a large room with ceiling to floor windows, and the social media darling was sitting on a a plush sectional sofa, looking at her phone, with a bored look on her face.

Sherlock wasted no time accusing her of murdering Mrs. Beckwith, calling her a sham and a fraud. There was no talking to Asmodeus, or other gods or immortal beings, just a very good acting job, going after the Beckwiths for their money and to further her social media career.

After Sherlock's manic speech, Ms. Divine became irate, wanting to know who we were and threatening to sue us for defamation. I calmly told her there was a witness who saw her follow Ms. Beckwith up the stairs before the lights went out, and saw her at the bottom of the stairs went the lights came on, and asked her to explain how she was able to come back down the stairs in the darkness. I joked that maybe she used night vision goggles, and her face turned pale. 

Knowing she'd been caught, she confessed to the murder. It turned out that she and Ms. Beckwith were having an illicit affair, having met at a convention last year. She had fallen hard for the beautiful redhead, and Ms. Beckwith promised she'd leave her husband and join her on a spiritual retreat to Bali this summer. But then Carter had fallen ill, and was diagnosed with lupus. Ms. Beckwith had ended the affair due to guilt and that she really did love her husband. Ms. Divine was furious, but maintained her composure. Then when Carter contacted her agent, inquiring if she'd like to perform at his wife's birthday party because she was a huge fan, the social media mystic knew it was the perfect way to plan her murderous revenge.

She admitted coating her lips with coconut juice she'd gotten from the open bar, as Ms. Beckwith was deathly allergic to it. She'd gone upstairs in the pretense of telling her former lover she'd accepted that things were over between them, and asked for one final goodbye kiss. Seconds after the kiss, Ms. Beckwith had gone into anaphylactic shock and collapsed. Without her EpiPen, she painfully convulsed and died, and Ms. Divine stood there, watching her expire. At the same time, her assistant had turned off the power after Ms. Divine showed her where the breakers were in the basement while they were setting up earlier that evening. The outage was a part of Ms. Divine's fake prophecy, that would show the guests her mystical powers, but was a cover for her to kill in darkness. She'd hidden a pair of night vision goggles in her bag, putting them on so she could make her way back downstairs without hurting herself. Once she got downstairs she texted her assistant to turn the lights back on.

Ms. Divine hoped the death would be ruled natural causes with a little help from her prophecy so no one would suspect it was actually cold-blooded murder.

After the malicious mock-up mystic was taken into custody, Sherlock declared the case a solid eight, and that it was sufficient enough to be our very last one before settling into retirement in Sussex. As soon as we were off the Beckwith property, I'd planted a kiss on him, telling him it wasn't a kiss of death, but a kiss of life ---for our new life as a retired genius detective and retired genius Army doctor. Sherlock had laughed at that (his laugh is so deep and melodic, it's a thing of beauty), and we soon were on our way back to Baker Street.

And with that dear readers, ends my last blog entry of our numerous cases. But don't fret, I will continue this blog after arriving in Sussex, not to talk about murder and mayhem, but enjoying our life as residents of Sussex. Sherlock plans to keep bees, I will be gardening and finding new recipes to try out, since we'll have a more spacious kitchen for cooking and dining.

One door may be closing, but another one is opening, so stay tuned!

\---John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asmodeus is not really a god, but king of the demons according to Jewish lore. He's been a character in the TV show Supernatural, portrayed as a reptilian creature in the 1977 TV movie Spectre, starring the late Sir John Hurt, and the main villain in the 1970 cult classic Equinox. I used his name for the story because he also is a personification of lust, as it was lust which drove our fake mystic to murder.


	26. Chapter 26 - Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are uni students and boyfriends who live together in their dorm. One rainy afternoon, Sherlock brings home an unusual collection.

It was a mild, but rainy Friday afternoon on St. Bart's campus. John was in his dorm room, relaxing on the bed reading a crime novel. His classes were done for the day, and his professors had not assigned any extra work, so his weekend was free. He and Sherlock were planning to spend the rest of the evening inside, with a takeaway pizza and doing whatever they felt like. Since the two began dating, John was spending less and less time down at the pubs where his rugby mates and uni friends liked to go every Friday and Saturday nights, preferring to be with Sherlock. And Sherlock loved having John with him in their dorm or wherever they decided to go.

A few seconds later, Sherlock opened the door, his black raincoat wet from the showers, dark curls slightly sticking up. John thought he looked adorable. Then he saw Sherlock pushing a cooler with a handle attached, and his face scrunched up in curiousness. "What's in the cooler?" John asked.

"Ears," his boyfriend answered matter-of-fact.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot Molly had set aside ears for you for your experiment," John remembered. Their friend Molly, a forensics student, worked part-time at the campus morgue and was able to secure a bunch of ears for Sherlock. The morgue had collections of different body parts students could take for labs.

Sherlock took off his raincoat and hung it up on a rack mounted on their door, then ran a hand through his unruly curls. He joined John on the bed, leaning in for a kiss. John was only too happy to indulge him. Sherlock smiled and the two cuddled together. 

"I thought maybe tonight after dinner we could take inventory on the ears. I've created a spreadsheet for us to record certain characteristics. I thought I would call them out and you can enter them into the sheet," Sherlock said.

"Sounds good to me. I haven't looked at ears close up yet in my advanced anatomy class yet. We're still on the central nervous system."

Sherlock sighed happily and kissed John's forehead. "I'm so lucky I have a medical student for a boyfriend who doesn't care that I bring body parts into our dorm. I love you."

John laughed and kissed him back. "I'm lucky to have an exciting and super-smart boyfriend that always keeps me on my toes. And hell, it beats getting pissed at the pub and stumbling your way home."

Sherlock giggled. Except this time, I'm keeping you in lots of ears."

"True love, true," John replied, resting his head on Sherlock's chest. It was definitely going to be an interesting way to spend a Friday night, and he wouldn't have it any other way.


	27. Chapter 27 - Fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clothing leads to an A&E visit. Alternate first meeting story inspired by "A Rash Decision" by Pat Precieux.

"You're an absolute bloody prat," Lestrade furiously whispered to Sherlock. "I told you wearing those tight bespoke suits in the middle of a heatwave would cause problems. But no, you have to sacrifice your health for fashion. And you say I'm an idiot."

Sherlock just scowled at Greg, in too much pain to retort. He couldn't even sit down, it hurt too much even to do that.

The detective had developed a nasty case of heat rash thanks to refusing to wear lightweight clothes in the middle of a July London heatwave, and it finally caught up with him this afternoon while on a case, causing him to lose focus and complain of being extremely sore and hot. Concerned that it was heatstroke, Greg had decided to take him to A&E, and when Sherlock had trouble getting into the car, and saying it hurt to sit, Greg knew it wasn't heatstroke, but heat rash. The nurse at the hospital confirmed it after an examination. Now the two were waiting for the doctor to take another look and possibly prescribe ointment to treat it.

Sherlock stood as still as possible, as any movement would intensify the pain, hoping the doctor would come in soon. It was two-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon, A&E couldn't have been that busy with patients. 

A few minutes later, the doctor entered the room. Sherlock couldn't help take notice of how handsome he was. He was young, about his age or a few years older, with short blond hair, and deep blue eyes. He had crinkles underneath his eyes, a prominent nose, and perhaps the cutest ears Sherlock had ever seen on a man, and he instantly wondered where that came from, but he put it out of his mind. Simply, the doctor was attractive. He wore a white labcoat, khaki trousers, and a white button down shirt. His name tag read John Watson, M.D.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Watson. I understand we have an extreme case of heat rash?" He glanced at Sherlock.

"Yes Doctor. I neglected to wear 'normal summer' clothes during this heatwave, and because of that I'm here, unable to do anything but stand," Sherlock replied bitterly.

John nearly did a double take at hearing that delicious baritone, but he kept his composure. "Well, heat rash has actually been pretty common at the A&E this summer, especially with those that have to wear uniforms and the fabric isn't that forgivable. But I take it you made it a personal choice."

"Doctor, I'm Greg Lestrade, a DI for Scotland Yard and this is Sherlock Holmes. He consults for us on cases, and he always wears suits on the job. I tried to convince him to wear lighter weight clothing, but he refused."

Sherlock pouted. "I have a reputation to maintain. Everyone is used to seeing me dress impeccably."

"Well Mr. Holmes, sometimes we can't be a slave to fashion if it's going to impact our health," John pointed out. "Better to wear a T-shirt and shorts than to be here suffering from heat rash."

Sherlock snorted. "I understand that now."

John nodded. "Good. I'd like to examine you Mr. Holmes. I know the nurse already did, but I want to see for myself how severe it is so I can prescribe the right ointment that will relieve this as quickly as possible."

"I guess that's my cue to leave. I'll be back in a bit," Greg said, making his exit.

******

Greg returned forty-five minutes later to see Sherlock, now wearing a pair of grey cotton shorts that were too big for him, and a Pink Floyd T-shirt. Greg was about to laugh but bit his lip, not wanting to incur the wrath of the detective. Doctor Watson was with him, a big grin on his face. "Sherlock is all ready to go. I decided he couldn't go home in the clothes he came in. We just point some Balmex on him and we need everything to breathe. Luckily there was a pair of shorts in my locker, and one of the custodians had a T-shirt to loan. 

"You look different Sherlock, but I like it," Greg finally said.

"This is only temporary. Don't expect me to show up in this...garb...all the time," Sherlock dryly replied.

"Believe me I won't, but if it continues to be hot like this, I'd invest in some summer weight bespoke suits," Greg told him.

"Noted," Sherlock said. He turned to John. "So, once this is all cleared up, how about dinner?"

Greg's mouth dropped open. What had happened during the time he was away?

"I'd love to. Just give me a call," John answered cheerfully.

"I prefer to text," Sherlock responded.

"Whatever, as long as I hear from you. You're one of the most brilliant men I've ever met." He turned to Greg. "You're lucky to have him assisting you."

"Don't I know it," Greg said. 

"Okay, you're good to go. Use the Balmex at least three to four times a day. I also suggest oatmeal baths to alleviate any itching, along with Benadryl as needed. I hope you feel better Sherlock, and I'm looking forward to that dinner date." John smiled at Sherlock, who shared a small grin with him.

As Greg and Sherlock were heading towards the exit, he turned to the detective. "That was unexpected, you finding a boyfriend during an A&E visit."

"He's not my boyfriend yet," Sherlock reminded him. "It's just dinner."

"Yeah, well I think this may be the start of something good. Doctor Watson seems to be a pretty decent guy."

"Very upstanding."

"Strong words for a man you just met. Well, good for you Sherlock, I mean it."

Sherlock turned his head and blushed a little. He couldn't wait to have dinner with the handsome doctor, and if it did bloom into something more serious, he would certainly be okay with it. At least he'd have his own personal doctor that could fix him up if another mishap like the one this afternoon popped up. 

He started feeling heat spreading all over his body, but it wasn't from the rash. This was pure attraction, and that was the kind of heat he could definitely deal with.


	28. Chapter 28 - List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding planning is a lot easier this time around for John.
> 
> For this story, John and Mary were married long before he met Sherlock, and he was never in the army. It takes place right after Hounds of Baskerville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last fic for the February Johnlock Prompt is here! It was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be! After this, I'm going to take a break from prompts and finish my Love and Snow series so I can begin on a new anthology, Love and Spring. I'm enjoying writing these anthologies - I hope to do a Love and Summer and a Love and Autumn, to complete the whole package. 
> 
> Enjoy this final chapter for February!

John sat down at the kitchen table to go over the list he and Sherlock made for their upcoming wedding. The two had gotten engaged last New Year's Eve during an intimate dinner at Angelo's. Sherlock had ordered a bottle of white wine, and when the waiter brought it, along with two glasses, John's engagement ring was taped to the bottle. There was a mixture of shock and excitement, combined with happiness and tears as Sherlock told John how much he had kept him right over the last two years, and he wanted John to keep him right for the rest of their lives, and asked the doctor to marry him. John of course, said yes, and the wedding planning was soon on.

Four items on the list were already checked off, setting a date, picking a venue, food, and choosing a theme. The two wanted to enjoy having some time being engaged, so they decided to marry the following year. John didn't want a late spring or summer wedding, due to his first wedding taking place in June, and Sherlock didn't want to get married in the winter time. They thought about September or October, before John suggested Good Friday. Not because of the religious aspect, but because Good Friday was a bank holiday, along with Easter Sunday, so that would give them some time to unwind from the wedding before heading off for a honeymoon. Sherlock liked that idea, and suggested an evening wedding. John was perfectly fine with that. His first wedding had been at eleven in the morning, which gave him not a lot of time for rest. 

With the date and time out of the way, they then discussed where to get married. Neither wanted a large church wedding, as they were limiting guests to fifty. John knew Sherlock would be better emotionally and mentally with a smaller, quieter celebration, and John didn't want a do-over of he and Mary's nuptials. 

The two poured over wedding websites, picking out the pros and cons of each site. Eventually, they agreed on having their wedding at RSA House, which catered to smaller groups. It was also in central London, which both men loved, as neither wanted to travel far for the ceremony. They booked a tour, and were extremely impressed with the different spaces to hold a wedding and reception. Sherlock fell in love with an area called The Vaults, which were originally used as wine cellars. He loved the architecture and the lighting. John loved seeing his genius so happy and excited, and he also thought it was a cool place to get married. Especially since Mary would have sneered at a place like this.

The two booked The Vaults for Friday, March 29th, with the wedding starting at six p.m. followed by a reception featuring cocktails and light fare, as Sherlock really didn't want to do a full course sit down dinner, and John wasn't keen on that either. Angelo would be catering the reception, and the cake would be made by Mike Stamford's wife Ellie, who owned and operated her own bakery in the heart of the city, Ellie's Edible Sweets & Eats. 

Next on the list was theme. Sherlock had some ideas for their wedding. He loved bees, and wanted to incorporate them into their wedding. John loved spring and gardening, and he was growing some plants and flowers on the roof of their flat to make it look more inviting. The two compromised and decided on a spring garden theme with a focus on bees.

John was glad he and Sherlock had nailed three things off the list down. The fourth was attire. John would be leaving that up to Sherlock, as he admitted he had no fashion sense, but he did have some ideas on what he wanted to wear, and he was sure Sherlock could come up with something amazing for the two of them.

His mind went back to his wedding to Mary. He'd let her make all the decisions, well actually, she made all the decisions and he went along with it. Mary had very specific ideas about what she wanted. She'd dreamed of getting married since she was nine, and she had it all mapped out. A big church wedding in June, bridesmaids and maid of honor in lilac, a formal dinner, followed by dancing to a band, and a tall wedding cake covered in purple roses. The wedding did turn out to be beautiful and perfect. Unfortunately, the marriage did not.

John was happy and thought they'd be together forever. Then on their fifth year of marriage, Mary became pregnant, and started planning her dream pregnancy. John as always, stood by her side and went along with it. He was looking forward to being a father.

Then on the fifth month of their fifth year together, a man turned up at their house. John was home, Mary wasn't. The man showed John custody papers he'd filed, claiming he was the father of Mary's baby. John was thunderstruck. At first he was in denial, but then he started thinking about the times Mary wasn't home, especially on weekends, claiming to be off visiting a sick relative or out with the girls, or business trip. And when he realized she had conceived during one of these weekends, everything came crashing down in a blur of devastation.

He confronted Mary, who first denied it, but eventually she confessed to her adultery. John immediately filed for divorce. He could no longer stay with a cheater. He'd seen how his father's affairs ruined his marriage with his mother, and he vowed he wouldn't stay married to a cheater. He got a lawyer, based the divorce on the grounds of emotional cruelty, mental cruelty, and adultery. He demanded the car and half of their joint checking account, along with his freedom, and he got all three. Knowing she'd screwed up big time, Mary didn't fight him. 

John also had a savings account in his name he'd had since uni. Financially stable, he'd moved into a flat above Ellie's bakery, quit his suburban GP job, and found work as a trauma doctor in the A&E of Royal London Hospital. He was enjoying his new life as a divorced man, and began casually dating.

A new chapter of his life began on January 29th, 2010 when he met Sherlock Holmes in the St. Bart's morgue. He'd run into his old friend Mike Stamford, and agreed to come visit him at his job. He locked eyes with Sherlock, and never looked back. Now he was getting married a second time, to his true love. John never thought he'd end up dating, much less marrying a man. He'd known he was bisexual ever since he was sixteen, but thanks to his father's rampant homophobia, he kept it a secret. As soon as he left for uni, he outed himself, and then he was able to truly live his life how he wanted.

But Sherlock just wasn't any man. He was fierce, intelligent, brash, sometimes rude. But he also had a big heart, and had a sweet soft side he only showed for John and Mrs. Hudson, their landlady. John loved him unconditionally, and he was proud that in a few months, he would be John Watson-Holmes.

John continued to peruse the rest of the wedding list--- flowers, rings, music---when he heard the door to their flat open. He smiled, knowing Sherlock was home. He left the kitchen and found his handsome fiance hanging up his Belstaff. "Hey you," John affectionately greeted him. 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and gave him a warm kiss. "Hey."

"Solve the case?" John asked.

"Yes. Turned out to be the nanny. She had a miscarriage two years ago, and decided to claim the little boy as hers, believing she was a better fit to raise him since the parents were hardly at home. The child is fine, and I think the parents now realize it may be better if they eased up on their vacations."

"I'm glad everything turned out okay," John said.

"Me too." Sherlock kissed him again. "How's your day been?"

"Great. Just going over the list."

"Ah, about that."

John became concerned. "Everything okay?"

"Maybe. I booked an appointment with Mycroft's tailor on Savile Row for Thursday morning. I know you want input on our wedding plans, but Joseph is one of the best and he's offering us a discount."

John's face lit up. "Really? That's great! I mean it. I wanted you to take over the clothing part. I know you'll find us something great."

Sherlock blew out a sigh of relief. "I feel so much better now."

"I do have some ideas about what I'd like to wear. In all honesty, I don't want a fancy morning suit or a tuxedo. I actually pictured us wearing just button down shirts and slacks, but dressier. Maybe paired with just a vest. I know it doesn't sound like proper wedding attire but---"

Sherlock grinned. "No, I think going a little more casual is good. Even though we're getting married in the evening, our venue has more a club like setting to it anyway, so I think business casual is just fine. And you know how I hate wearing ties."

Happier than ever, John planted a big, wet kiss on Sherlock. "I'm so glad we're able to compromise. How about you and I order some takeaway and go over the list."

"Sounds perfect John." Sherlock brushed his lips across John's forehead. "I can't wait to be married to you."

"I can't wait either. You're the best thing that ever happened to me," John lovingly replied.

Later, over Kung Pao Chicken and egg noodle soup, the two grooms-to-be plotted out more wedding details, growing even more excited at what would no doubt be a spectacular wedding.

[The RSA House](https://www.thersa.org/)


End file.
